Page 7 of The Fence Between Us

Because Dylan belonged in the same circles as her parents, they spent the entire evening discussing politics at local, state, and federal levels; bills; and laws. The topics of conversation mixed into a muddled pile in her brain. None of it interested her, but the way the conversation was going, she doubted she needed to be present for it anyway. Skye practically bolted fromthe table at her first chance, making feeble excuses to escape into the humid summer night.

She spent the drive home, brief as it was, in silence, the lack of noise and voices a balm to her overstimulated brain. If only she had the strength to tell her stepmother no, to stand up to them, to refuse to come to dinner, or to ignore their condescension toward nearly every aspect of her life. Not for the first time, she mentally kicked herself for being weak. Too weak to stand up for herself. Too inept to go after what she wanted.

In her life, she could only recall two instances when she gathered her strength to form herself some kind of backbone. To stand against her parents and speak up. They’d both cost her. Once when she returned home from college for the first time and notified her parents of her degree change to elementary education. Their negative reaction and beratement had sent her fleeing back to the campus before the end of the first night.

The other time made her heart hurt when she thought about it, so she spent a good amount of time avoiding the memory altogether. Still, in her morose mood, Skye tumbled into the sweeping memory.

Rabble Raden was going to be the death of her. She took a blanket and her textbooks down to the fence every day where they studied together, not that he struggled with school any more than she did. Mr. Raden, as Principal Smith called him, was doing better than her. But he hadn’t been to the fence in three days, and Skye was ready to pull out her hair. Even the mild scent of her Mamaw’s lilac bush in the early spring didn’t cheer her. A bad feeling swirled in her gut, slowly creeping up to her chest to seize the oxygen in her lungs.

Skye stared at the peeling paint on the fence and waited. Darkness fell, making shadows stretch across the yard. Rabble’s lanky form emerged from behind the rust-bucket old truck. Specks of starlight gathered at the corner of his eyes andfell down his face like droplets on a windowpane. Even from a distance, Skye felt the devastation that held his whole body taut. She rushed to him, leaping over the fence in a bound, and took him in her arms. Rabble’s shoulders shook as the dam burst, and he broke apart in her arms. She gathered him as close as she could, as if her arms alone could hold him together while his soul spilled out of him and lay dead in the dirt.

His mother. His sweet mama. Gone.

Her smiles, tired as they were. Her quiet humming when she danced around the local diner where she worked, taking orders with a smile. Always with a smile.

Gone.

Rabble fell to his knees, cracking them on the pretty stones they’d collected and stashed near the fence through the years. Skye refused to release him, to let go of what was left of him. Even when her father hollered for her to come inside, she stayed and let him stalk back into their home. She’d deal with the fallout later. Always, she stayed.

After that, Skye lost any sense of freedom she’d possessed. Her father’s fury knew no bounds and she became a prisoner in her own home. Her parents hauled her from the house when they needed her to play her role as doting daughter but beyond that, she spent her days at school and school-sponsored activities. The rest of the time, she spent in her room, watching the fence line for any sign of the broken boy beyond it.

Skye cringed, those painful memories bursting through as she lay in bed, refusing to move. Light peeked through her dainty floral curtains, and she gave up trying to sleep, dragging herself out of bed with a determined sigh. No matter how badly she wanted to stay beneath her covers and mope, she knew that would only make things worse in the long run. Forgoing the more comfortable choice of black leggings and an oversized shirt that would do nothing to draw her out of her funk, she insteadchose a pair of denim shorts, sandals, and a soft T-shirt with tiny yellow bumble bees zipping across the cream-colored fabric. The v-collar exposed more of her tanned chest than typical, just enough to push her to the edge of her comfort zone but ensure she didn’t feel too awkward to leave the house.

A glance in the mirror told her all of her efforts were in vain. The purple smudges under her eyes spoke to her sleepless night, and the lines around her mouth showed her utter frustration lingering from the night before. Stepping outside, Skye inhaled sharply, immediately bending at the waist to throw her tangled honey-blonde hair into a messy high ponytail, leaving on the ends to trail over her neck. The humidity hung thickly in the air, coating her skin and making her clothes hug her body a little more. Summer in Shiloh Hills was gorgeous, but the humidity alone could make a person cranky.

She started her silver SUV and waited impatiently for the air conditioning to kick on. After several moments, she finally felt the tickle of the cool air from the vents brush across her arm. Though she didn’t necessarily feel like socializing, Skye drove toward the local grocery store on the opposite side of town, waving politely to those braving the summer heat to walk along the well-maintained sidewalks. The trip was quick, more of an excuse to force herself into public when she would have preferred to wallow in self-pity on her couch. The boxes and pouches of pre-packaged foods fit inside four of her reusable bags, which she settled into the cargo space beneath a mesh covering.

Skye sang along to the radio absently, parking along the curb at the courthouse, across the street from the Brick House Cafe. Brick House Cafe served great coffee, sweet pastries, and juicy gossip, depending on what interested the patron. Kellyn, one of Skye’s dearest friends, owned and operated the cafe and caught Skye’s eye through the front glass windows. Before she’deven walked through the door, Kellyn had the supplies gathered to prepare Skye’s preferred beverage. Skye smiled, her chest tightening at Kellyn’s thoughtfulness.

She ordered a second latte, this one for Elyza, a mutual friend who worked further down, on the adjacent street. Skye decided to walk, despite the oppressive heat, and kept a loose but secure hold on the drinks as she made her way toward The Wild Bride. She gave herself the luxury of letting her mind wander as she strolled by other shops, admiring the way the relatively new concrete sidewalks sparkled in the bright sunlight.

Outside The Wild Bride, Skye balanced the lattes in one hand, swung the door out with the other, and propped it open with her hip as she entered. The bell above the door jingled merrily.

“Hey girl, I —” The words died on Skye’s lips as her eyes lifted from the floor and landed on a pretty, petite woman and three of the biggest men she’d ever seen in her life.

Each had turned toward the door the moment the bell signaled, and suddenly Skye found herself the center of their attention.

The woman stood on the end, her slight frame tucked behind one of the broad-shouldered men, her light-brown hair and smooth olive complexion bore no resemblance to any of the others in the room.

Skye’s eyes widened, her mouth popping open into an O, while her brain tried desperately to reconcile the sight in front of her. Each man was well over six feet tall, and their navy blue cotton T-shirts stretched tightly across their chests, hugging well-defined biceps and highlighting their muscled arms.

Two of them, to the left and right respectively, were almost identical. Both had mahogany hair, a shade or so lighter than Elyza’s, that matched one’s short stubble and the other’s neatly trimmed beard. While the man on left had a shorter haircut, the other’s scrapped the tops of his shoulders in thick wavy locks.The man with the cropped hair and shadowed jaw had a smirk plastered to his face, almost as if that was his usual expression. The other one appeared more serious, his eyes roaming over her and then moving away to finish assessing the rest of the sales floor.

But the man in the middle… He shook her to her core.

His hair was the same deep soil brown she remembered, still thick and tousled from running his hand through it—a habit he’d had since adolescence. Those eyes, like storm-darkened clouds under straight eyebrows, were the same shade as her favorite color.

She’d know his face anywhere.

In front of her now though, that face belonged to a man, not a boy, not like the last time Skye had seen him.

Peeking around the man on the right, Elyza hurried over to Skye. She could have kissed her friend for the way the pressure seemed to begin dissipating from the air, at least, until Elyza spoke.

“Skye!” She smiled hesitantly, picking up on the hum of tension hanging heavily around them. “You’ve never met my brothers.”

Hearing her name snapped Skye out of her thoughts, and her eyes darted to Elyza’s brilliant green ones, safer territory than looking at almost anything or anyone else in the room.

“I, I didn’t know you had…brothers.” Her voice shook as she stuttered.

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